Though it is to believe,

the right way,

the proper manner to address

the fool on the hill,

is through a well disposed ignorance,

for eventually,

the sorriness of futility,

may roll their soul further into the valley,

that place we all land,

when certain grip on our lives becomes a

precarious balance.

 

Yet that family did stand alone,

a sign in hand,

kids playing catch with mom,

in the middle of the boulevard,

their playground,

their back yard,

their so far unmet dream,

while we in our shiny vehicle,

drove by without eye contact,

instead a quick smile,

and a hope that traffic would not abate

quick removal from this scene,

one might label the fool.

 

Who is driving today?

 

We shape our lives around

interactions,

smiles and nods, and surreptitious encounters,

the sort that ask our

selves …

Self? Do you better understand today,

than perhaps

that year you came to terms with futility.

I suppose one might argue

finding the answer

would then cause everything to fall into line,

and like a set of dominos

topple the grand design.